Winter's Dagger
by nuclearfallout101
Summary: Based on a battle report, this is some fluff for my Dark Elves in fantasy warhammer


_If you want to follow the fluff and other battle reports go to covernofshadow dot web dot com_

_This is based on a battle report_

From the confines of the ragged tent, the elf wizard cast his eyes towards the dusk sky. Hail had begun to fall upon their camp, light and noticed little at first but even if the storm grew it would not hinder their soldiers. The dark elves were used to this weather, the winter in the lands of men was little more than a normal days work to them. Far more deadly were the winter's of Naggaroth, this was merely a passing inconvenience.

The slain bodies of caravanners, ambushed and slaughtered for supplies, the elves had taken everything and sent it to the storage room set up in the nearby cave, a maze of twisting tunnels and hidden horrors most likely. Guards had been sent to keep an eye on those tunnels, some rumors among the soldiers had spread of things going missing in the dead of night from the stores, of voices and whispers deep in the abyss below their feet.

Each side of the valley was steep, impossible to climb but a fairly common route used by men to move goods, in this winter that was hasilty getting worse, only the bravest of traders ventured onto the roads now and those that did were murdered by his kin.

A number of old buildings still stood, giving some cover from the weather, mostly for his elite troops that deserved no less than all the comforts that they could have. This location had merely been a checkpoint for traders, when men came close his guards on the towers would greet them in and before they could understand what hit them, bolts from their crossbows would take them down with ease.

As Amaranth left his tent, two grey clad guards followed him without an order, wrapping their fur cloaks to shield from the wind. His champion caressing his magical halberd menacingly at a small group of human slaves who thought their miserable lives would be better surrendering to the druchii, they were very wrong.

Their hands, numb and raw, bleeding almost to the bone as they hauled heavy equipment and crates from the wagons, wearing little more than rags they knew not to complain. A few bodies littered the floor across the camp, another task for the slaves to do at some point. The corpses belonged to those who had not kept up the work pace, and been swiftly torn apart by the witch elves who numbered in the hundreds.

Reaching the top of the tower, the wizard lent against the wall observing the camp for some time. His armies had gathered well, he could now launch raids against nearby towns without much threat. His people, used to the far bitter winds of his native land were not slowed while the humans were and would not be able to pursue them through this weather.

The main force, a few hundred elves armed with an assortment of elven, orc and human weapons captured from their enemies were the most common of his troops, trained better than most they were still not worth much in his eyes. Most were camped in tents in the Centre of the camp, around a number of roaring fires that flickered in the coming darkness, soon it would be night.

Around the towers and walls were a number of elves armed with crossbows, they patrolled the outskirts as well, although his scouts and outriders also moved back and forth carrying messages or reporting back in from scouting. His personal guards had their own building where they were stationed, fifty of his best warriors made little noise, ate little and drilled around the clock, training and making ready for battle at a moments notice.

Isolated far across the camp were the witch elves, of which all through the day and night screams and chants would echo through the pass. Flashes of magic and slaves dying had ceased somewhat, as now only the most essential slaves were left, those with some skill in certain areas such as smithing were spared until they died from exhaustion.

While lost in his train of though, a long deep bellow shook the valley, the warning horn that something was coming near, it would not have been sounded unless a battle was unavoidable. Guards aimed their crossbows out into the hailstorm and watched the skyline at the end of the valley, but nothing appeared. The horn sounded again and this time a number of screams followed by the clash of metal rang out. From the caves poured a black mass of scurrying ratmen, skaven...

The enemy had far superior numbers, at least two thousand of the rats were running towards his lines, it hadn't taken long for his well disciplined army to rally together and group. Those few stationed at the cave entrance had been overrun before they could join his main force, but they were a small loss. Covering the left flank, the wizard had waited on the witch elves, their eagerness to charge out would only leave him in the way if he went first. A great number of boiling cauldrons brewed at the front of their ranks, bubbling with purple ooze the witch elves began dipping their weapons into the enchanted venoms.

Even though the wind had picked up and the sharp pricks of hail were beating their exposed flesh, the cloth clad witch elves seemed not to notice and carried on with their pre battle duties as though the enemy were a mile away and not within bowshot.

Amaranth and his common troops stood behind them, some looked worried at the enemy numbers, but they stood ready to fight none the less. To his right his bodyguard defended the cauldron of blood, blessed by khaine, it would help sway the battle in his favor, guarded by Karliah and her best hand picked maidens it was well defended should the ratmen be foolish enough to try and assault it, magical energies were spewing from the contraption and swamping his soldiers in a cloud of purple and dark blue light, blessing them with dark powers which went un noticed by the common eye, for only the witch elves and those attuned in magic could see those powers the cauldron gave to the dark elven soldiers.

His archers were positioned in cover by the main barricade to their camp, aimed and ready they waited for the enemy to come within range. Already his rangers and those mounted scouts had covered the ground, letting of volleys of bolts and arrows and turning in their saddl to move back and forth across the enemy lines they were slowing the advance as some of the rats cowered under shields.

The ground trembled as a great host of giant rat like ogres on the left flank appeared from the caves, they were not slow nor clumbersome and groups of rats by their feet egged them forward in a chorus of growls and insults in an unknown language to Amaranth.

His chariots on the right flank, a group of ten or so slowed and circled to keep up their momentum for when they were in range of a more devastating charge. They were heavily armoured machines, not led by cold ones like traditional druchii chariots, but instead led by captured war horses that had been trained over a number of monthes to respect the beastmaster's whips. Armed with large metal plates, spikes, lances, spears and sytches, the chariots were a deadly form of unit. A screech, unlike anything he had ever heard sent silence across the great rat army, some kind of creature moved behind the main lines which seemed to have a flow of chaos magic ebbing from its every sore.

Sensing another wizard was present, Amaranth scanned the enemy lines. Perhaps by sheer luck or fate, he spotted the enemy wizard casting a spell. Conjuring up his powers, spears, swords, arrows and other assorted weapons that were laying by the forge rose up and plundered towards the unit in a hail of sharp instruments. Rats fell but they didn't falter, the spell had not been as effective as he would have liked. Keeping his eye on the mage, he pressed the weapons towards him, out of cowardice the rat mage dived into the ranks of fellow vermin and the blades struck the normal warriors. As the mage emerged however, Amaranth could see a dark patch on it's shoulder where a blade he struck.

Realizing he had caused more than just a flesh wound, he watched as the mage let loose a storm of black smog towards his elite warriors in panic, drawing far too much more power than he could handle. The mage keeled over, blood spewing from his mouth the other rats quickly moved forward leaving the rat mage to die a slow and painful death, but the black smoke had hit home. His elite troops coughed and spluttered, unable to breathe as it enveloped them. Amaranth wasn't sure what it had done to them, but they began to look like they were straining to walk forward with the rest of the army.

A roar from the witch elves turned his attention back to them as they suddenly were hit by the ogre like rats, standing ten feet tall at least they crashed into the dark elf maidens who leapt at them in a crazed frenzy, despite their madness they dodged and weaved around slow clumsy blades, their magical poisons cast deep into the hairy flesh the giant creatures. Moving forwards, Amaranth led his common warriors to aid the witch elves. He knew that they could handle themselves, but overwhelming the ogres would bring the battle further in his favor with fewer losses.

On the right flank, he caught a glimpse of his riders and chariots hitting the enemy lines and starting the battle on the other side. Arrows fired into the night, the only light was that of the fires around the giant camp now, flickering off curved and cruelly barbed weapons from the skaven, meaning the rats didnt see the hail of bolts coming. Some fell, but they reacted quickly and most raised their shields in defence of the barbed arrows.

The elite guard had already moved to defend the Centre of the battlefield, despite the spell affecting them they hit the rat men lines head on, to give them some kind of aid Amaranth cast forth an aura of darkness that engulfed the rats, squeals erupted as rats shuddered and fell into fits of pure agony as their souls were ripped from their bodies. Great numbers of theirs fell, coupled by the black guard hitting them in one smooth motion of well rehearsed slashes, cutting down their opponents with ease. The numbers of the clan rats meaning little as they were hit by a barrage of swirling death from wicked spears and halberds.

Before his common warriors had even reached the ogres, the giant rat creatures had already begun to turn around and fall back, most falling down where they felt the effects of potent poisons. One of them continued to fight, it spotted Amaranth and rose it's weapon in a challenge. The creature reached out to grasp Amaranth and the mage cast out his hands, releasing an incredible force of suffocating energy that ate the ogre from the inside out as the grey smoky energy trailed into the rat ogre's mouth, seconds later the creature fell twitching as it's flesh disintegrated from the inside and it fell into a number of pieces that withered away to dust.

"Hold!" Amaranth called to his warriors, one or two had been slain but it had made no difference.

The warriors watched in awe as the witch elves leapt and darted with supernatural speed, cutting down the fleeing orges until only a handful remained, scattering in all directions they were beyond reforming now. But they didn't have time to rest from the short lived previous battle.

A chorus of screams and squeals cried out from the edge of the raised ground near the caves, hundreds of rats swarmed down. At first they appeared to be attempting to flank the elite guard, but their direction was confirmed when they carried on past, straight for the spears and himself.

Soldiers on either side edged back and shuffled their feet, holding their spears forward a few looked towards Amaranth for orders, they would be heavily outnumbered.

"Hold!" the wizard called and the elves locked their shields and spears into formation, awaiting the impact.

The mage focused his power on the oncoming rats, their momentum appearing unstoppable at first. Within moments, their numbers began to matter little for those at the front tripped and fell, shadows and tentacles swamped them dragging them to the ground, tearing them apart. The rats behind them faltered and fell over the front, but those behind them leapt over the top and carried on their charge.

"Thrust!" Amaranth ordered and the elves ducked behind their shields, thrusting their long spears at the enemy.

The impact was light and squishy, the rats hit the wall with all the force they could, but their size and numbers meant little on the initial contact for they could not reach over the shields and the spears impaled them by the tenfold. Amaranth reached out again with the darkness, shredding and maiming, his powers ripped apart the easy defeated rats and dragged some into the ground where for a moment chaotic portals of swirling purple would appear. The shieldwall held easily, the superior skills and disipline of his soldiers holding the line meant little got through the gaps. One or two rats had made it over the shields here and there, leaving perhaps five or six dead or wounded elves from his unit of hundreds.

As he admired his spellwork, the ranks of the rats suddenly exploded in panic as his heavy chariots swept through them like waves parting for a ship. They stood little chance and knew it, they turned to flee and Amaranth waved for the chariots to follow them, which they did gladly, cutting and hacking, some firing their crossbows from the safety of their chariots as they pursued the rats which quickly lost most of their numbers, not one escaped them.

The chariots reformed and the wizard moved forward with his spear elves, who caught sight of the last of his elite warriors, atop a mound of slain rats only five or six remained standing in a swirling mass of blades, determined to hold on to the last man and awaiting reinforcements.

The wizard stood by, watching as his scouts on horseback returned from somewhere else in the battle, their numbers far fewer than they had been earlier. His shades had fallen back to a building where they took pot shots at any rats close enough. The last stand of the black guard confirmed it for the rats, as they cut down the last of the elite warriors they turned to see twice their numbers in elves marching towards them, inlcuding chariots and crossbow armed elves leaving their positions and drawing their weapons, hoping to get into the fray and draw some blood themselves.

The last of the ratmen chose living to fight another day and sprinted away with remarkable speed for their size, abandoning their caves they simply disappeared into the night, deep into the falling hail storm.

"Lord, shall we station some more units at the caves?" the commander of his spear elves asked.

"What caves?" Amaranth replied, focusing his mind he conjured a cloud of dark matter around the caves, tendrils shook the stone as they grasped it and they pulled down, shifting the entrance until it was collapsed in a thundering crash, their supplies were most likely destroyed or poisoned by the skaven by now.

His attention was turned to the elite guard, the rat weapons had caused more wounds and nasty infections than kills, and most of them were laying screaming or limping back to the main lines. The spear elves broke formation and began searching the dead, a squeal was heard as a spear elf discovered a hiding skaven under a corpse, with no mercy the elf revealed a dark smile as the rat struggled under the weight of the spear impaling it, until it bled out moments later.

Amaranth looked back and forth, until he found the guard's commander, laying dead on a pile of rat corpses, his magical halberd imbedded in the skull of one rat and his daggers in the torso's of two other rats that lay dead on top of him, all around the slain elf were skaven with searing burns where the magical halberd the elf had carried had cut through them like butter.

"Take only those wounded with no infection back to camp," Amaranth ordered to his soldiers," kill the others,"

With no remorse, those armed with spears stepped up to one of the guards who knelt vomiting from the skaven poison flowing in his veins from a blade stroke on his arm.

"You are not worthy,"

The scream of the wounded elf carried across the camp as spears cast into his weakened shell.


End file.
